Month: October 2015

A man walks into a bar. No, I mean a bank as he withdraws five hundred dollars, orders a Vesper with two olives. His wife likes olives. Outside, the streets are lined with waiting faces. The pope arrives with a direct line to the gods. Hallowed halls open wide. Singing, as in hallelujah, enlarges the dialogue. Inclusive has its moment in the papal prayers. The … Continue reading Peggy Aylsworth Poems, Day 1: “Magnitudes Need Help”

When I asked him, I looked away. He lit my skin though. Every time. His bite would hit and spit and lift every hair. So hairy, his beard bit me. I pushed myself down on him while he lay on the bed. I always gave him head. I should save myself though tonight. Regardless of money or our anniversary. But to ask for head and plead … Continue reading Head Games by Matt Adler

Truth be told, rain is the only entity qualified to judge what should become of any entity, including itself, who breaks the law. On a lighter note, rain is responsible for the existence of the hat. Boots too: because sans rains, no muds. I am reminded of the rain whenever it rains; and even when it doesn’t, even then. It falls or drops in loops, … Continue reading Connolly Ryan Poems, Day 5: “No One Tells the Rain”

On the bus to Northampton from Amherst I was sitting across from an old man with the wrecked blue eyes of a sunken mariner. Eyes so wet and blue and seen-through as any screen-door of the deep-south ever was, that to be caught looking into them was to be trapped in history itself. He caught me looking into them all right, and I was stunned … Continue reading Connolly Ryan Poems, Day 4: “Bus-ride In A Bottle”